


Say Yes

by Tasharii



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Avengers Family, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Marvel Universe, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve, Reader-Insert, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasharii/pseuds/Tasharii
Summary: Fate brought you together but that doesn’t mean anything is ever guaranteed.There are a lot of reasons that it shouldn’t work out. People from different worlds usually don’t.But every time you say yes, it gets harder to imagine ever telling him no.Or how your relationship with Steve Rogers grows and you fall in love.





	1. Fate

**Author's Note:**

> This has been bouncing around in my head after some badly timed song inspiration.  
> There should be about 5 parts, at least that’s how it’s currently planned out.  
> Should have known I couldn’t just do a Steve Rogers oneshot…  
> You can also read this on Tumblr [here](https://tasharii.tumblr.com/post/178365514603/say-yes-part-1).  
> Let me know what you think please!

Steve frowned down at his phone as it vibrated on the kitchen counter. It shook the salt and pepper shakers, making them clink together obnoxiously. He took another sip of his black coffee, debating on answering or not. It wasn’t often that he got calls from numbers he didn’t recognize. The liquid burned down his throat, warming him up from the inside.

Bucky glanced over and raised his eyebrows. Seeing Steve’s intense stare at the buzzing object, he took a half step turn and leaned his hip against the counter beside the stove, "You gonna get that?" He waved his spatula at it. Pancakes sizzled on the pan behind him, his voice barely loud enough to carry over the hissing of the oil. 

Making up his mind, Steve nodded, and sat down his hot mug. It had the Captain America shield boldly stamped on it. A gift from Tony. Water dripped down his ears, hair still wet from his post-workout shower. His thumb brushed across the screen and he pressed the phone to his ear, "Steve Rogers."  Words calm and firm, his ‘Captain America’ tone. At least that’s what Bucky called it. Hazy morning light glowed across the kitchen counter above the sink and refracted off the granite kitchen counters.

Seconds passed before you piped up over the line, sounding nervous but still clear, "Oh um I'm sorry but I'm looking for a Steven Barnes?" A crease formed between his eyebrows, and he tapped his socked foot against the lower support rail of the stool he occupied. Elbows on the counter, his fingers pushed the coffee mug around in front of him, thinking.

Several months had passed since he used that identity. It was the name on his lease from the last apartment he stayed at. Back before Bucky returned from the dead. Before he finally gave in and moved into the Tower where his best friend would he safer. 

"That's me. What can I help you with?" He lifted his mug back up, hiding a smile behind it. Steve hoped to ease some of your tension with his friendlier tone. Bucky kept glancing at him from the stove, obviously eavesdropping, he ignored him.

"Well you see, I got this number from the landlord. I moved into your old apartment. Found some stuff in the closet that you might want. A shoebox? It's got some old pictures, sketchbook, and dog tags in it." You explained, noticeably sorting through the stuff as you went. The sound of shuffling paper and metallic jingling floated through, far away from the phone’s receiver.

Steve tensed, surprised. Bucky plopped a plate of steaming pancakes in front of him with a questioning stare. Concerned about the tension curling up in Steve's muscles. The smell made his mouth water, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat yet. Not while trying to figure out what he was going to do. Blankly, he stared down at his coffee, like it could answer all his problems. Fingers loosely gripping the handle, he took a drink, buying himself a few seconds.

He hadn't entirely unpacked since moving into the new apartment. There were boxes still filling up his closet that he had yet to go through. A lot had happened in the short time since they both started living in Stark Tower. He just hadn't gotten to it. But he never imagined he left anything behind in his hurry. Especially not his old dog tags or a sketchbook.

"Hello?" You asked, worried from the long silence. 

"Ya. Ya sorry." Steve cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose, "If it's alright, I could come get the box later today."

A minute passed before you finally answered, "My last class is over at 1. Can you come around 2?"

Steve nodded and then realized you couldn't see that, so he quickly replied, "Sure! I'll see you then." Then he hung up. Only to wince and realize he never actually asked for your name.

Bucky sat down beside him at the kitchen island, propped on a stool. They never used the table. He took a bite of his pancakes, dripping in syrup and smirked over at Steve, "Got a date?" His mouth was full when he spoke, making Steve grimace in disgust. Then the words fully processed in his brain.

So, he blushed at the implication and scowled stubbornly down at his food, "Course not. I just gotta get some stuff I left at my apartment." He shrugged nonchalantly, and Bucky hummed in the annoying way that meant he was reading far more into it.

"She sounded cute." He started but then barked a laugh when Steve elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. Bucky slung a bit of syrup across the counter, fork swinging as he tried to fight off Steve’s elbow.

"You're the worst." Steve rolled his eyes, stopping his assault, and focused back on his food. It looked really good, like most of Bucky’s meals. He was mid-chew when he felt Bucky staring at him again. Pointedly, he ignored him, cutting aggressively into a piece of sausage.

"And you're blushing." Bucky grinned and Steve dropped his fork. It clanked loudly against the plate and he threw up his hands in frustration.

"Fuck you Barnes."

****

The firm knock on your door had you jumping off your worn-out couch. Book you were reading forgotten, you stumbled over thin air and caught yourself on the couch’s armrest. Undeterred, you hurried to answer it only to pause short of opening it. It didn’t make much sense that you were nervous. Still, you smoothed out your t-shirt, tugged down your black jean shorts and ran your fingers through your hair.

Even after all that, you still felt like a hot mess. Annoyed with yourself, you finally reached for the door. One heavy bolt lock later, and it swung open. Your worst fear stood just across the threshold.

In the form of a very tall, very strong, and very handsome blond.

Steve smiled sweetly at you and offered a small wave. On its own, his smile had your throat closing up. The cute little wave filled your mouth with dust bunnies. Still, determined, you beamed at him and took a step back, "Wanna come in?" You waved back towards your apartment, swallowing the lump in your throat. The blinds were cracked, letting in strips of golden afternoon light. Quiet music played from your radio and everything smelt faintly of coffee from earlier that morning.

He seemed surprised at the offer, eyes wide and hesitating for a second, but then he nodded. Slightly self-conscious, you wondered if it was weird that you were inviting him in. Too late now. As he stepped through he politely removed his cap and ran a hand through his soft dandelion hair, tussling it, "This place looks so much better than when I lived here." Steve chuckled, taking it in.

There were still some boxes in a few corners, but you had all the furniture situated. Several bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with books, movies, and games. A large entertainment center with different gaming systems sat against one wall, and a couch with a miss-matched recliner circled around it. Pictures hung along the walls, and knickknacks covered most of the surfaces. 

It felt lived in. And warm.

"I doubt that," You shook your head, "I'm still settling in." After he stepped through, you kicked the door shut with your bare heel, and stood next to him, watching him as he looked around.

Steve shrugged, "Still, it looks good. Homey."

Unable to help it, you blushed under the praise. Then shifted your weight nervously from foot to foot. Before remembering, eyes wide, "Oh um. I'm Y/N. By the way." You offered out your hand. He was so much taller than you that you had to elevate your hand up a little, rather than straight out.

Steve took it and sheepishly ducked his head as you shook, "Sorry about that." His hand was rough and warm. Made you feel warmer just from holding it for a second.

You shook your head, dropping your hand and subtly flexing your fingers. Those were definitely sparks making your heart race, "Its ok. Not every day a stranger calls saying they got your stuff." His eyes were still roaming your apartment and you didn’t really mind. Part of you was happy that he liked what you did with the place. The dark wooden floor was cool under your feet and his heels clicked against it as he took a few steps further into your living room.

Steve's mouth closed, reply forgotten, and he suddenly went still. His eyes were trained on something above your head. Slowly, you turned and followed his line of sight to one of the paintings on your wall. Still silent, he walked closer to inspect it.

It was a skyline of Brooklyn. You could tell that much from some of the buildings, but it wasn’t an exact skyline you ever recognized here. Ever since you found the painting in the back of your closet, you had tried to find the view, but with no luck.

"Oh um..." You followed him over to the painting. It was hung across the room above one of your shorter bookshelves, "That was in the closet too. I hope you don’t mind. It was just so pretty." Crossing your arms, you studied the painting for the millionth time.

Steve shook his head, smiling reluctantly, "You think so?" A light blush covered his cheeks and you stared at him curiously. Wondering what he was blushing for. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach at the sight of the pretty pink across the bridge of his nose.

"Definitely. You can tell that skyline is special to the painter. It's a little sad but sweet too." You confided, hoping that your words made sense. Sometimes, you couldn’t explain yourself too well. Your eyes flicked from the painting to his face.

Eyes round with surprise, Steve stared down at you. He swallowed and tucked his hands into the pockets of his brown jacket. After studying you a second longer than appropriate, he finally managed, "You can keep it." To be fair, you had been watching in right back. Lost in the peculiar expression on his face.

Your eyes widened, and you smiled, a wave of appreciation swept through you, "Really? Are you sure?" 

"Ya. You appreciate it more than I do." Steve nonchalantly shrugged, shuffling his feet and appeared a smidge uncomfortable with your gratitude.

Despite that, you continued to grin, "Thank you." You turned back to it for a second and took a step closer. Leaning up above the bookshelf, you tapped at the little signature at the bottom, "Do you know who the artist is? I'd like to see more of their work. Maybe get another to go with this one." Eyebrows raised, you turned and peered back over at him.

Somehow, Steve blushed more and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "Well um... I actually painted it." Two seconds ago, you couldn’t have imagined finding him anymore attractive but here you were.

You stared at him, obviously not believing him for a second but then your mouth dropped in surprise. It took you a minute to form words and you covered your face when a giggle escaped, "Oh geeze... well I'm glad I didn’t say anything stupid." You snickered and shook your head, backing away from him and the painting. As if attempting to escape the awkward situation.

Shoulders shaking, Steve laughed at how flustered you were, "It’s alright. Really. I'm happy someone likes my work." He paused, as if considering something as he gazed at it, “I painted this from memory. From when I was younger. I used to sit on the fire escape and watch the sunset. Didn’t have much better to do.” Steve exhaled loudly, “I was sick all the time. So, I stayed home a lot, even when I got older.”

You listened attentively as he talked and when he trailed off you nodded in understanding. Not surprised, you had been right about it being sad, “It’s kinda dumb but I’ve been trying to find where you got this skyline. I wanted to see the real thing.” There was a theory bouncing through your head about why you couldn’t find it. Steve confirmed it when his face pinched in thought. Uncomfortable again.

“The apartment I painted this from got torn down a while ago. Remodeled.” Steve stepped away from the painting and over to another one a foot away. He brushed you off, vague with his reply, but you didn’t really mind. Weren’t even all that surprised. His eyes took in the details easily, and he even started looking through your collections of books, movies, and games.

Still apprehensive about the situation, you walked over to the small kitchen. The kitchenette and living room were only separated by a counter that doubled as your table. Along with the floor shifting from wood to tile. Head ducked, you pulled a coke out of the fridge. Busy hands helped distract you. Took your mind off the ridiculously attractive man browsing through your things.

"Want one?" You asked, holding up your drink to draw his attention to it.

Distracted, Steve nodded, and you brought one over for him before sitting down on the couch. Slowly, he turned, and his eyes fell on you. Then the table in front of you. The shoebox of his things was on the coffee table. Steve sat down beside you, a polite distance away, and his eyes fell on the shoebox, "Thanks for not just throwing this stuff out." He pulled it over to him and started sorting through it.

A fond smile made his features soften. You leaned closer, sipping on your drink. Earlier, you had gone through it yourself. There were some pictures of the Howling Commandoes. Dogtags with Steve Rogers’ name and identification number. And a lone sketchbook.

"I could tell this wasn’t just some junk left behind." You shrugged, combing your fingers through your hair so it fell over one shoulder. It most definitely, was not junk. Especially considering it was obviously Captain America memorabilia. That stuff could go for quite a bit of money. More importantly, it was clear that someone cared a great deal about this stuff. Now you knew who.

Steve opened the sketchbook and started flipping through it. It was newer, but the edges were frayed and worn. Every single page filled with something. Mostly random drawing. Objects, buildings, parts of Brooklyn, and people. All done in an impressive amount of detail. You watched him sort through the pages quietly. Baby blues far away in the memories it brought back.

"You're really talented." You offered, fingers curled around your drink. Legs crossed on the cushion furthest from him, you leaned forward on your elbows, so you could take in the drawings for probably the third time.

A moment passed before Steve glanced curiously over at you. There was a dawning expression of realization blooming across his features. He met your eyes, hesitating on a drawing of Loki and his scepter. Realization transitioned to confusion within a second. You weren't treating him differently. In fact, you were doing your best to treat him like the person he was. Not the icon from history. His suit wasn’t anywhere in sight, and he wasn’t demanding your admiration.

So, you quietly waited for him to say something. You weren’t sure if you would rather him admit to being Captain America or continue to let you get to know Steve. Like a deer in headlights, Steve just eyed you, eyebrows furrowed. Unsure and nervous. His fingers fussed with the corner of the pages, ruffling them. He didn’t move a muscle. Stayed leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, sketchbook in his hands.

Another minute passed before you looked down at the drawing and smiled, "His helmet is ridiculous. Did he really make it that big?" Changing the subject seemed like the best course of action. Hopefully, it would combat the awkward tension that had started to build up.

Steve jerked, surprised yet again, his eyes tracked your finger tracing the horns and smiled, "Ya, he was a little full of himself." You were leaning forward just a bit further, so you could lightly touch the page.

A hum of understanding left your throat and you nodded, "Maybe he was overcompensating for something." Your eyes met his again and you leaned back. Setting your drink back on the coffee table, you gave him a suggestive smirk.

It was like an anchor slipped off Steve’s shoulders. Ankle crossed over his knee, he relaxed back against the couch and snorted, "Ya, it's hard to live up to Thor. It's still a running joke that Loki is a puny god." His voice grew lighter as he kept talking and it made you relax in return.

It felt like an unspoken promise blossomed between you two. Connected you.  
The Captain America thing just didn’t matter.

 

 

Conversation flowed easily after that. It didn’t stay on the topic of the Avengers for long. In fact, you asked him more questions about his hobbies and likes. While he asked about your job and your life. Strangely enough, it was like you two were old friends, just catching up.

Before you realized it, the hour had drifted to dinner time. The light from you living room window stretched gold and warm across your floor. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and sighed, “It’s getting late.”

Legs tucked up on the couch, you were turned to face Steve, arm propped up under your head. His thigh touched your bare knees and he was comfortably nestled back against the couch, face close to yours. Cheek pressed against your hand, you frowned down at your phone. As if it was the reason for the way your heart was being constricted like a python got ahold of it. Irrational, unabashed disappointment seeped into your skin.

Steve frowned too and pressed his lips together in a firm line, “Ya I’ve probably stayed way longer than I should’ve.” It was amazing how quickly 4 hours could drift by. Despite saying that, he didn’t make a move to get up. Just continued to study you, hands clenched into fists in his lap. Behind his eyes, you could see the gear turning. Like he was working out some sort of problem.

Not an inch of you even feigned to get off the couch before him. Instead, you held his gaze and bit your bottom lip. If you were being honest, you were starving. Too late to catch breakfast that morning, and too nervous to eat much before he arrived. Now it felt like your insides were going cannibalistic and eating your stomach. Still, you didn’t want him to leave. So, you refused to be the first to get up and show him the door.

Finally, Steve asked, “Do you think I could see you again?” His voice was quiet, hesitant, and his face betrayed how nervous he was. Hands squeezed together, he ducked his head down and then swallowed and stared up at you with a new kind of resolve. Like he was a knight and you were the princess he wanted to win favor from.

It felt like your heart skipped three beats and stopped all at once, “Ya, I’d like that a lot.” Blushing, you carded your fingers through your hair and pushed it back out of your eyes. Nervously twisting it in your fingers. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. Your body was too light and fluttery.

A grin made Steve’s face light up like a summer morning, “How ‘bout right now?” Your eyebrows inched up to your hairline, and he chuckled, “I mean, if you’re hungry. I’d love to buy you dinner.”

Unable to think of anything else to say, you nodded and stood up. Steve followed you and picked up his jacket from where he had discarded it on the armrest of the couch. Shrugging it back onto his shoulders, he pulled on his shoes while you slipped on your own. You grabbed a denim jacket and tugged it on.

Outside, it was late summer, slipping into fall. Cool enough that a light jacket was acceptable but warm enough that it wasn’t entirely necessary. If you had time, you would have done something different than shorts with a jacket, but you didn’t want to make him wait. Wallet in hand, you tucked your phone into your back pocket.

“Wanna split the cab?” You asked, nervous anticipation growing in your stomach. This was really happening.

Steve shook his head, “Actually, I’ve got a motorcycle.” You paused, door to your apartment open and lights flicked off, “If that’s ok! I mean, we could take a taxi if you’d rather.” He held up his hands and rubbed the back of his neck. It made you feel better knowing he was willing to do what you wanted, even if it wasn’t the easier option.

“No!” You blushed at how enthusiastic you sounded and continued quieter, “No, I mean. I would love to ride on your motorcycle.” You bit your bottom lip and turned away from him to lock up. The door shut quietly behind you and you tucked your keys in the inside pocket of your jacket, along with your wallet. When you glanced back up at him, he was grinning.

“Good to know.” He mused and wrapped an arm over your shoulder. Like it was an old habit. His hand squeezed your shoulder and you leaned into him, enjoying his cologne. It was so easy to fall into step with him as he guided you down the dimly lit hall. Comfortable silence filled the air and he pressed the button to call the elevator.

As you waited, you quietly asked, “Steve?” He looked down at you with a half-smile and raised his eyebrows. Chickening out, you shrugged, “Just wanted to know where you wanted to go to dinner.” The elevator dinged to announce its arrival, and Steve swept you inside. His fingers played with a lock of your hair as the elevator started its decent.

“There’s a really nice family owned Italian place I’ve been to. It’s not well known but the foods good.” Steve offered and paused, fingers still in your hair, he chuckled sheepishly, “Sorry, does that bother you?” He tugged gently on one strand, “It’s just… pretty.” It was easy to imagine the blush across his face went all the way down to his toes.

Shaking your head, you brought your hand up to cover his, “I don’t mind. I actually love it when people play with my hair.” You admitted, and he grinned, squeezing your fingers in his.

“Off to a good start already.” Every smile he gave you and every compliment made you feel more alive than you thought you could. Steve made you feel things you’d never experienced before. It amazed you that one person could make you so flustered with a single word.

Seconds passed, and the incredibly old, crawling elevator took its time going down 10 floors. The question from before bubbled back onto your tongue and Steve threaded his fingers with yours. Hand lifted to your shoulder, you ran your thumb up against his palm, tracing random designs. Steve tilted his head and hesitantly pressed a feather light kiss against your temple. It made your heart swell so much and it hurt.

Part of you was scared. Scared to care so much already.

“Steve.” You started again, catching his attention.

“Ya?” He asked, pulling back just enough so he could meet your eyes when you looked up at him.

“Do you believe in fate?” It was such a childlike question, but it felt so important to you right then. Fate had never crossed your mind before. Not till now. In this dingy elevator with two lights out overhead and water stains on the floor. Somehow, fate was stitched into the very fabric of this moment.

Even the smallest smile made him shine and had you feeling warm all over, “Yes.” Soft blue eyes held your own with intense sincerity. It was a simple answer, but it meant everything.

“Me too.”


	2. A Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up!   
> I never realized how cute Steve was until I started this.  
> Please let me know if you're enjoying it <3

Days flew by faster than a speeding train. One bled into the other in the sweetest sort of bliss. Every spare chance you got, your nose was glued to your phone, texting him. Every other night, he would call you to talk, and every single weekend, you went on a date. Tonight, made date number four. Before you knew it, one month had passed. It wasn’t all easy, especially moments like right now.

“How long are you going to be gone?” You asked, hand in Steve’s as he walked you to your apartment. His motorcycle glinted in the moonlight, parked on the curb right in front of the door. After the movie, he had drove you straight home, but you didn’t want him to leave yet. So, you suggested taking a stroll around the block. Burn off some of the extra buttery popcorn. It was dark but living in the city that never slept had its perks.

Steve glanced down at you, eyebrows together, “Probably a month or so. I don’t know for sure.” His footsteps were so light compared to your own. Silent while your boots clicked against the concrete of the sidewalk. The air smelt like rain. Humid and heavy against your skin. It had been overcast all day and even though you couldn’t see the clouds beyond the light pollution, you could imagine they were close to bursting.

Mild anxiety bit at the back of your throat. Steve had promised that he would contact you any chance he got while he was away, but that wasn’t a guarantee. Plus, all you could imagine was him covered in blood, hurt. It made your stomach sick, “What’s the mission about?” There still hadn’t been an ‘Avengers’ discussion. Just some basic conversation whenever it came up. Sometimes he complained about training, or one of his teammates if he was stressed out. With each conversation, you were careful with how you probed and tried to keep him from getting uncomfortable.

Head down, he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, “I can’t talk much about it.” Steve held your eyes, and you could see the conflict in his soft blues. Fighting with himself about how much he could say or should say. You looked away first.

Self-conscious, your tensed, waving one of your free hand as you quickly apologized, “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No! I’m sorry. I know this has to be weird for you.” Steve interjected, tugging you to a stop in front of your apartment steps. He huffed, jaw tight, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. My job is difficult, and I hate keeping you out of such a big part of my life.” His hand came up and he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, blue eyes shining bright in the pale fluorescent streetlight, “It’s for your own safety. In case anything happens.”

Biting your bottom lip, you felt a bubble of frustration crawl up your throat. The hand hanging by your side clenched as you tried to keep the aggravation at bay, “Ya, but what if something happens to you? How will I even know?” You gestured to yourself, palm pressed to your chest, “You could just disappear, and I would find out on the news before anyone even told me!” It came out a lot harsher than you intended it to. The way Steve flinched made you want to bite off your tongue. Tears stung in her eyes, but you blinked them back and swallowed them down.

A moment of quiet passed, and you felt the beginning drops of rain against the bridge of your nose and shoulders. Steve looked up towards the sky and a raindrop landed on his forehead and dripped down his temple. After he took a deep breath, he stared down at your again, “I know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about something.” Steve stated hesitantly, stepping closer and the rain made scattered dark spots on the front of his navy blue his t-shirt. It pattered against the leather of his jacket.

“Wanna come up?” You offered, gesturing vaguely towards the apartment. It was just starting to rain harder, making your hair stick to the back of your neck. Smiling hesitantly, he nodded.

 

 

“So, what’s going on? You’re ok right?” The ride up the elevator had been a bit awkward and your nerves were starting to get the better of you. An evil voice in the back of your mind kept buzzing around the thought that he was tired of you. That he wanted to go back to just being friends rather than whatever in-between area you were in now. But if he really wanted that, you hoped he wouldn’t have come up to your apartment with you.

Shrugging out of your light jacket, you hung it on the back of your recliner. The air of your apartment felt a tad nippy now that your hair and clothes were damp. Bare feet quiet against the floor, you made your way to the couch and plopped down. Dark specks scattered across your jeans and you combed your hair over your shoulder, hoping to help airdry your shirt.

“Ya I’m alright. Better than alright.” Steve sat beside you on the couch, in a position that was becoming familiar. Back against the armrest, you let him tuck your legs over his lap, his hand squeezed your knee through a hole in your jeans, “I want to have Tony add your contact information to the emergency list.”

Eyebrows creased together, you frowned, “Emergency list?” Warmth seeped into your thigh from his chest and arms and your fingers picked at the hem of your shirt, listening intently.

Steve nodded, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your knee, “Basically, it adds you to the watch list of important people in our lives. Y/N, you have to understand that, as someone I care about… it puts you in danger.” His words stumbled over each other, you could feel the vibrations of them against your legs from his chest. Nervous, his blue eyes didn’t linger on your face for long. Just a couple seconds before he focused back on his hands, and then back up to your face.

It felt like your heart transformed into a drum and started beating in your ears. That had occurred to you. Being close to Captain America couldn’t come without issues. But all those issues felt far away, foreign and like they didn’t belong in the bubble you and Steve were creating. There had only been one occasion where you really noticed that people treated him different. He got recognized outside of the restaurant where you two went and had dinner a week ago. Got swarmed by a small group of fans. Snapped some pictures, signed some autographs, and then slowly managed to excuse himself. You had just hung back and watched it all with wide eyes. It felt bizarre.

“I-I know. It’s ok, though. You’re worth whatever issues we have to deal with.” You admitted, skin growing hot from the confession. He caught your hand again, stilling it against your shirt and drew your hands over to his chest, playing with your fingers. Straightening them out, tracing the lines of your palm, and feeling your knuckles.

“You say that now, but I don’t want you to agree to anything without really thinking about it. There are unbelievably bad people in the world. Some might use you to get to me.” Steve stated in a rush, taking a breath. It looked like admitting this to you put him in pain. Like he didn’t want to be trying to talk you out of being close to him. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth and a crease formed in his forehead, shoulders hunched up to his ears.

Another minute of silence passed as you watched your combined hands in the dim lamplight of your living room. The rain was coming down hard now. Pattering against your window and thunder rumbled in the distance. Steve’s hands engulfed your own and the calluses scratched soothingly against your skin. Thumb against his wrist, you could feel the strong beating of his heart, “Ok.” You shrugged and when he raised his eyebrows in disbelief, you tried to explain, “What else do you want me to say? Ya it scares me. Ya I don’t like the idea of someone I care about nearly dying at work every day! But I don’t like the idea of you not being in my life more.” Heart successfully transferred to your sleeve, you looked away and laughed nervously, “I mean, if you want me to stick around.”

Steve caught your cheek in his hand and made you look at him again, “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t.” He smiled sweetly, and you giggled. Relief making your body feel light. Then he continued, “Being on that list means that if anything were to happen to me, you’ll be contacted. And you’ll have a protection detail keeping track of you.” His thumb brushed the line of your jaw.

“Someone’s going to be watching me?” You asked incredulously, eyes wide and eyebrows raised to your hairline, you sat back and protested, “I don’t know if—”

Steve shook his head and stroked his fingers through your hair, twirling a strand around his finger, “Not all the time. Just keeping tabs on you. That way if you go missing, we’ll know. Just in case you’re in danger.” He elaborated, but you didn’t know if you liked that any better.

Nose wrinkled, you eyed him skeptically, “Isn’t that stalking? If you’re worried I’m going to run off on you, you could just say so.” It took everything you had to keep a straight face, especially when his baby blues grew round, and he started to sputter a reply, but couldn’t find the words.

Face entirely scarlet, he edged on distressed. Hands up in a surrendering position, he shook his head, “No no no! It’s not like that. It’s just part of—”

“I’m kidding! Just kidding.” You laughed, catching his hands and holding them in your own, “I get it. I don’t want to get kidnapped either. Besides, if it makes you more comfortable, then it’s worth it.” Bringing his hands up to your face, you kissed his knuckles softly, “I can get used to it.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief and playfully glared at you, “God, had me worried for a minute.” He stared at you, and you smiled, relaxing your cheek against the couch cushion. The silence that followed was comfortable and warm. This felt better. Like you had gotten somewhere, and you were closer now. At least you would know if something went wrong. It didn’t change the fact that you his job made you uncomfortable and scared. But at least it was a step in the right direction.

As the quiet drew out, broken up with the clashing of rain and thunder, you found yourself lost in his stare. Part of you wondered if he was going to kiss you. Hoped he might. You hadn’t yet. Not in the entire month of flirting, holding hands, and cuddling. It was driving you crazy.

Blue eyes drifted down to your lips and you bit your bottom one, squeezing his hand, “Y/N?” Steve whispered your name so sweetly, you thought your heart might float away.

Afraid to speak too loudly and break the moment, your eyes flickered to his lip before studying his face, hope in your chest, “Ya?”

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asked quietly, hesitant and his fingers brushed your palm. Heartbeat in your ears, you licked your lips, nervous. Everything about him made you nervous, but it wasn’t a bad thing. It just meant you had a lot to lose if he left. That terrified you, but you refused to let that fear control you. Let it ruin what was growing here.

“Yes.” The reply came out as a whisper, and you followed it up with a faint, “Please…” You were already leaning forward. Eyes shut, you felt his hand stroke your cheek as he guided you to him. His lips were warm and pliant against your own. Gentle but then you quietly groaned, and he held you tighter. Needier. Your hands brushed through his hair, tugging lightly at the short strands. The moan that he voiced sent goosebumps down your arms. His arm wrapped around your waist like a vice and he pulled you closer until you were sitting sideways on his lap, turned so your chest pressed against his. Hand stroking down your back, Steve’s palm slipped under your shirt, feeling the skin of your hips. The touch sent hot shocks to your core.

Other hand against your neck, the gentle pressure let you know he didn’t want you to pull away. Steve kissed you slow. The barely-there scruff on his cheeks scraped against your smooth skin. His lips languidly danced with your own. When your teeth bit his bottom lip and dragged down, his answering groan made your heart stutter. Fire coiled in the pit of your stomach. His tongue brushed against the crease of your lips, making your part them in want. But he didn’t explore your mouth, instead his fingers tangled in the hair at the base of your neck and he enticed your head back, so he could lightly bite against your throat. Eliciting a mewl from you and your fingers dug against his strong shoulders. Steve trailed open mouth kisses down your neck and to your shoulder before he wrapped your arms around you and hugged you tight. Held you with his face hidden against your neck.

Breath coming out in short bursts, a wide, goofy grin made your cheeks hurt. Affection and butterflies fluttered in your stomach and behind your ribs. Kissing the top of his head, you nuzzled his damp hair, unable to think in full sentences, “That was…”

“Ya.” Steve’s lips moved against your skin, voice muffled against your collarbone. He was shaking. Small tremors across his back and arms where he held onto you. Like you might fade away. Just a figment of his imagination. It made your chest twinge in pain, but you didn’t want to draw attention to it. Afraid he might pull away. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tighter. The tremors slowed.

After a minute, you started, “And you’re—” He cut you off, sitting back so he could look up at you. Steve had a tender smile on his face, barely an upturn of his lips, and his eyes were shining. Tears just held back, and you felt like they were bittersweet.

“Beautiful…” Steve carded his fingers through your hair, stroking your cheek, and you blushed deep red. His gaze held your own and if he wasn’t holding you to him, you thought you might float away. Disappear with the wind.

Steve cleared his throat, blinking and blowing out a breath. Like he was trying to gather his thoughts back, “I um— I actually brought all that stuff up earlier for a reason.”

Readjusting yourself, you turned in his lap and straddled his waist, sitting back on his thighs. His expression grew flustered and surprised. Steve’s hands hovered in the air for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out where was appropriate to touch. Eyebrows raised, you caught his writes and guided his hands down to your hips.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked, playing with his hair and stroking your hands down his neck and broad shoulders. Trying to keep him calm. He relaxed, and you smiled, triumphant.

“I wanted you to have a good idea of what you were getting into before we went any further.” Steve stated, rubbing distracting circles on the top of your thighs. It felt like your heart was about to jackhammer out of your body. He twisted underneath you and leaned over to grab his jacket from the end of the couch. Shuffling through one of the pockets, he pulled out a familiar chain. The necklace jingled when he offered it out to you, “I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I care about you. So much. And I want to keep spending time with you.”

Hesitantly, you took the dog tags from him, running your thumb over his name engraved into it. The silver glinted in the lamp light of the living room, “Steve…” You whispered, at a loss for words. It reminded you of an 80’s romantic comedy. Where the guy would give the girl his class ring or letterman’s jacket to symbolize his commitment to her.

“Do you think you might want to try this out? Make it official?” Steve clarified, not that you needed much more explanation. He searched your expression, obviously nervous. Shy and timid in a way that you hadn’t expected him to be when you first met. The beaded chain was cold against your fingers and your other hand cupped his cheek, leaning down to peck his lips once. Then twice for good measure before you sat back up.

“I would—” You took a breath, grinning, “I’d love to.” Never in a million years did you expect this to come out of you calling the former tenant of your apartment. It was all like a fever dream that you never wanted to wake up from.

“Really?” Steve’s face lit up and his smile was so radiant that you felt warm just from baring witness to it. His hands on your hips tightened as he held onto you.

“Yes!” You giggled, nodding. Beaming, he took the chain from your hand and placed it over your head. The tags chimed against your chest and Steve stared up at you happily. Unable to resists, you captured his lips again in another kiss. You could feel his smile against your mouth and you cupped his face in your hands.

The cold of his necklace pressed at your skin, right above your heart. If you could help it, you would never take it off. Because if he never had a reason to take it away, it was an undeniable symbol that he was yours. And you were his. Like a shout into the world for everyone to hear. Or a whisper to your soul so you never doubted the truth.


	3. Stay the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are here! Doing this smut thing for the very first time!  
> I’m honestly surprised Steve gets the first smut from me and not Bucky BUT that’s just how the posting schedule has fallen.  
> So this is your warning. Be prepared cause I make no promises about the quality.  
> You can also read this on my Tumblr [here](https://tasharii.tumblr.com/post/178933961818/say-yes-part-3) .  
> Please leave some feedback on how you like this so far <3  
> It means a lot.

The beaded chain wrapped around your fingers and pressed indents against your thumb. Fingertips traced his name across the dog tags, the sensation familiar now, and you worried your bottom lip. Steve should have been back hours ago. Over the last three months since you started dating, you had come to expect him to be late. It just happened. Missions went wrong, or got extended, other times he got held up in the Tower for a grueling debriefing. Sometimes, he was early. Bad guys defeated quicker than expected. Those were the best times. And rare.

Right now, though, you were losing your internal battle with anxiety, and it sucked. A lot. One of your favorite Netflix shows played in front of you on the TV but you were barely even paying attention at this point. Instead, you gazed blankly at a faraway spot on the floor. Unseeing. Your phone sat mockingly quiet in your lap. Every so often, you picked it up and checked it to make sure you somehow didn’t miss an important message. You hadn’t.

Steve had let you know that he was heading back to the Tower. From some unknown location. That it would only take an hour more to get back into Manhattan. Since then, it had been nothing but silence.

What if something went wrong?

It wasn’t even an unfounded worry because things had gone wrong before with him. A couple months ago, you received a lovely phone call from Tony Stark. Iron Man had to tell you that Steve was in the hospital. Problem was, you’d only been dating a month and didn’t have clearance into the medical floor of the Tower. So, you just had to wait.

Steve got you clearance after that.  
Along with a handy listing in their security database. Fingerprints, retinal scans, and voice recognition. The whole shebang. No one ever mentioned that dating a superhero involved a thorough background check. It was like working for the government.

It was nearing 9PM, and the wind howled outside, threatening to storm. With an obnoxious clunk, your heater kicked on, fighting off the chill the November winds brought with them. Blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you were curled up in leggings and a band t-shirt. Steve had promised to drop by for dinner after he got back. Two weeks have passed since you got to see him. Dinner got cold an hour ago. There was a plate saved for him in your microwave. Hopefully, it would still be good when he finally got to eat it.

Phone in hand, you were debating calling Tony when you finally heard his familiar knock. Immediately, you jumped up and smacked into your coffee table in a hurry to get to the door. Pain smarted up your shin, but you didn't even slow. Yanking open the door with a grin, you instantly threw yourself on him in a tight hug. Ingulfed in his warmth and comforting scent, you felt %100 better. Steve grunted in bit back pain but hugged you regardless. The moment you heard him grimace, you took a step back, letting him go, “I’m sorry! Are you ok?”

He kept his hands on your shoulders, not letting you get far. A dark bruise ran across the length of his jaw and a gash with stitches stretched down his temple to his cheekbone. Steve had on a long sleeve blue shirt and jeans beneath his black trench coat. No other wounds were visible, but he held himself stiffly, favoring his left leg.

“I’m alright.” He assured, and you guided him into your apartment, locking the door back behind you, “We got ambushed in the base but everyone’s safe.”

Eyebrows furrowed in concern, you asked, “Did you have to abandon the mission?” Without getting far into the apartment, you interlaced your fingers with his. Then stretched up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. Just an affectionate peck. Next you gently kissed the bruise on his jaw, making him chuckle. His arm slipped around your waist, keeping you close. After a second, you dropped back on your socked heels, free hand on his chest.

Steve nodded, studying your eyes like he was trying to memorize you in this moment, “Nah, we shut the base down and got some intel from their computers. It took me a bit to get away from the doctor.” His thumb stroked your side absently, an affectionate smile made his face light up, “She didn't understand that I had places to be.”

“Then you’re forgiven.” You teased, unable to do anything but feel bubbly when he was looking at you like that, “I’ve got you a plate in the microwave.” Taking a step back, he let you go, and you gestured over to your kitchen. Outside, the storm had started up, the pattering of rain filled the small apartment along with the occasional crash of thunder. Every so often, laughter erupted from your TV as the show continued.

Relieved that he was safe, you walked to the fridge, explaining what you had made for him, “If you want to turn on the microwave, I’m sure it’ll heat up fine.” Hand on the door, about to grab him a drink, you tilted your head to point at the microwave, “Steve?” He was standing right behind you. The fridge closed quietly without you completing your task.

Steve’s sharp blue gaze was weighted as he stared down at you. Like he had something on his mind. Slowly, he took another step forward and brought up his hand. His coat fluttered around his legs like a whisper. Fingers stroking your cheek, he kissed your forehead, “I missed you.” He whispered, lips brushing your hairline. The smell of his bodywash fanned around you as the vent above your head blew heated air into the kitchenette.

Apparently, he had something other than food on his mind. Back against the fridge, you carefully touched his sides and slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt. Just feeling him and met his eyes, “I missed you more.” You admitted, “Could barely study for my test cause of you.” It was meant to come out as a joke, but your heart was in your throat. It sounded more like a confession.

Steve kissed your cheek, the unshaven stubble scratching at your skin, “I’m sorry.” And down to your jaw and then your neck. The brush of his teeth against your throat had you gasping in surprise and pleasure. Goosebumps rushed across your arms and thighs. Knees going weak, your head thumped back against fridge. Steve chuckled and threaded his fingers in your hair at the base of your neck. Gently, he unraveled your messy bun, letting your hair fall free, “Let me make it up to you.” There was something loaded about the statement that made fire ignite in your core. Your hands caught his wrists, squeezing and hanging on for dear life.

Up until now, you had taken your relationship slow. There was so much to navigate when it came to dating him. It honestly made you happy when he didn’t immediately try to jump into your bed. He hadn’t even stayed the night before, and you’d never set foot in the living quarters of the Avengers Tower. Only paid the Tower a visit once to get your biometrics into Friday’s system. And that only took you to the 5th floor. Neither of you had met each other’s friends or families. Talking to Tony on the phone didn’t count. It was simply your relationship. Just the two of you involved. And you liked it that way.

Dating a superhero was hard enough without anyone else sticking their noses into it.

Hell, no one even knew who specifically you were dating. Just that you were seeing someone. Your friends would have a field day if they knew you were dating a ‘celebrity’.

“How do you plan to do that?” You asked, sentence hitching in your throat when he nipped your earlobe. His body crowded you against the fridge, hips flush with your own. Breath hot against your neck, Steve’s jeans were rough against the front of your leggings. His coat hung open, almost enveloping you inside it along with him. Everything was so warm, even the butterflies in your stomach were made of molten gold.

“Can I stay the night?” Steve questioned instead, pulling back so he could study your expression. When you hesitated, realization making your stomach twist in knots out of apprehension, he cupped your jaw in his palms and rubbed his thumbs under your eyes, “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I just—” Steve cut himself off, looking down and swallowing. Like he was nervous, and his voice dropped to a whisper, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” The bruise on his jaw shone more prominently to you then. It was such a bizarre thought to have ‘Captain America’ and ‘fragile’ in the same sentence, but that’s how he looked right now. Steve was vulnerable.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t want him to go home either, “You can stay.” You whispered in return, stroking his hair and smiling sweetly. He nuzzled into your palm.

Steve’s eyes widened, like he was surprised by your answer, and he bit his lip, “Are you sure?” He let out a breath, “I don’t want you to feel pressured.” His blue eyes were deep and filled with affection, making you feel safe. Safer than you’d ever felt with anyone before.

“Ya I’m sure.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you balanced yourself up onto your tiptoes against him, “I want to know how you’re going to make it up to me.” Confidence flooded your veins when he blushed deep red. Lips against his, you groaned at the way his body pressed harder against yours. His hands traced down your back until he found your ass and he squeezed, making you gasp at the unfamiliar touch.

As if you were a doll, he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist, holding you by the thighs. Immediately, you broke the kiss and squealed, laughing when he spun and sat you on the counter. You knocked over a salt shaker with your hand when you tried to balance yourself, “There’s so many things I could do, I don’t know where to start.” Steve mused, kissing your neck again. His hands bunched in your shirt, subtly tugging it, waiting for you to protest. You brought your arms up, heart pounding when he tossed it over your head. His dog tags clinked lightly against your collarbone.

The air was cool on your flushed skin, your body exposed for him to admire. The soft awe in his expression made you preen. It felt good for him to look so flustered at the sight of you bare. His hands brushed down your arms, one grasped your fingers, the other stroked through your hair out of your face, “You’re beautiful.” Steve stated sincerely.

Before you could reply, he was kissing you breathless. His tongue was hot against your own, and his hands touched your chest, sending embarrassing noises out of your throat. It had been such a long time since you let someone get close to you like this. But it had never felt like this.

Heat built up in your core, and you shoved his coat off his shoulders. Steve let it fall to the kitchen floor. Followed instantly by his soft blue shirt. He trailed open mouth kisses down to your collarbone, then teased your nipple in his teeth, making your back arch. Lips parted in a silent whine. Your hips bucked until you were sitting on the very edge of the counter, flat against his jeans.

Steve gasped and groaned, grinding his hips back against you. Then you were rutting together, fingers tugging at his short soft hair. Thoughts raced through your head, but all you wanted to do was show him how much you loved him. Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? This burning need in your chest that was the sweetest pain you’d ever felt. This desperate desire to have him be closer and closer. Never close enough.

His hands were all over you. Touching your sides, hips, back, and hair. Everywhere you could feel, you did. Mindful of his bruises, you felt the tight muscles of his body. Hands trailed down his chest and up his back. Suddenly desperate to learn him by heart. The way his breath picked up and low little noises left his chest. The way he kissed you. The way he tensed as he ground the hardening front of his jeans against you. Steve whispered your name, voice deep and rough, “Y/N, I want…”

“Yes.” You immediately replied, lightly biting his shoulder while you felt the muscles of his broad back roll under your hands. His skin was burning, and his callused palm was hot against the tender skin of your breast. The heat radiating from him was a side effect to the serum, but it felt perfect in the drafty air of your apartment.

“But you don’t know what I was going to say.” Steve laughed, it vibrated through your bones and made your heart flutter. His laugh was the sweetest melody you knew. He kissed you again, tongue brushing against your bottom lip and then he bit down, pulling away slowly. Teasing you.

“Whatever it is, yes.” You giggled, breathless, cupping his smiling face in your hands. Impatient, you tried to draw him back in. Steve’s lips brushed yours feather light, but he wouldn’t meet you entirely. He kissed your cheek and made you groan in frustration.

Steve picked you back up, teeth against your jaw and he groaned when you squirmed against him. Your bare chests brushed skin against skin, and shivers rocked up and down your spine. The metal of his necklace was cold between your flushed bodies. He met your eyes, pupils blown, and expression filled with lust. Carrying you through your living room, Steve whispered, “I want you.” He spoke between kissing the corner of your mouth and nuzzling under your jaw, biting the soft skin under your neck.

“I want you too.” You moaned, lips brushing his ear and making his breath hitch. Steve pinned you against the wall beside your bedroom door, the hall was dark. Feeling brave, you slipped your hand between the small space separating your bodies and palmed him firmly. His hips jerked forward, and he groaned, forehead against yours. You caught his mouth and swallowed the next noise he made when your tongue tangled with his.

Cursing, he shivered, growing harder under your touch. He gently broke the kiss, tremors making his shoulders shake, and swallowed, “Are you sure?” He asked for the millionth time. It was endearing and yet frustrating that he was so concerned about your consent. His voice was strained, and he met your eyes. Free hand taking hold of your chin, keeping you from kissing him again. Everywhere his fingers trailed across your skin left scorch marks.

Stroking the length of him through his too-tight pants, you raised your eyebrows, “Do I look like I’m not?” You smirked playfully and unbuttoned his jeans. Steve’s eyes squeezed shut as you unzipped him, and he groaned, “Don’t you want to?” You questioned in turn, on the verge of sounding smug.

“Fuck yes.” Steve breathed, holding you by your ass, he nuzzled against your neck. Teeth bit you harder than before in retaliation, making you gasp. It wouldn’t surprise you if you found bruises later. Easily holding you out of the way, he kicked out of his jeans.

“Captain! Language.” You snickered and then squealed when he squeezed your thighs, pinching. You slapped his bare shoulder. Steve ground his hips against yours, making sure you felt exactly how much he wanted you. Needed you. Without his jeans, you could feel every hot inch.

“Your mouth’s just as dirty as mine sweetheart.” He growled and your answering curse at the pressure between your legs had him smirking. His eyes sparked mischievously, and you laughed too. Breathless and excited. Reaching to the side, you grabbed your bedroom doorknob and shoved it open. An invitation that Steve instantly took.

In a few quick strides, Steve threw you onto the bed and flicked on your bedside lamp. It illuminated the dark room with soft golden light. His eyes never left you as he crawled on after you. Steve hovered over you, hesitating for a second, until you leaned up and gently kissed him. Hands tracing down his chest, you broke the kiss and took him in. The broad width of his shoulders, and strong body. Bruises lined black and blue along his ribs and there was a small angry cut across his chest. Leaning forward, you kissed the wounds tenderly.

“Bedside drawer.” You whispered, pointing towards your lamp. Steve met your eyes, confused for a second, before it dawned on him and he leaned over, fishing out a condom. The drawer rustled loudly from the intensity that he dug through it. Shoving it shut again, he hummed in victory and presented the condom. You took it from him and playfully winked. Nerves fluttered in your belly and made your heart pound in your ears, but they were good butterflies. Apprehension of the situation. A situation you didn't want to go wrong.

After another minute of kissing and touching, you found yourself with nothing separating the two of you. Hand wrapped around his hard length, you finished rolling on the condom and bit your lip at the hot groan that escaped him. One of his arms trembled next to your head and his chest heaved in soft delicious pants. The other was lost between your thighs, drawing quiet mewls from you in return. Then you wrapped your legs around his waist and urged him on with your hips.

Steve’s eyes held yours as he kissed your forehead. Gently, he pulled his fingers out from inside of you, making you whine at the sudden empty sensation. Instantly, he rocked his body against you. Overwhelmed by how big he felt, you reached out for his hand, nervous. His fingers interlaced with yours above your head, squeezing reassuringly. As he buried himself entirely inside of you, he kissed you deeply.

A groan escaped you as pleasure wracked through your nerves. With every breath you took, you could taste him against your mouth. Steve's body pressed you firmly against the bed. You whispered his name over and over again like a prayer. His eyes shut tightly, and his forehead dropped to your shoulder. Dog tags jingled and fell askew on your neck, landing twisted against the bed beside your head.

Then he was moving, and you couldn’t breathe. It felt like you were too full and too hot all at once. You clung to his back, nails digging into his shoulder as he rocked you higher and higher. Every hard thrust had you crying out louder. Steve started slow, building you up with a gentle passion that made you feel safe and cherished. But it didn’t stay like that. Your body tensed around him and he groaned your name against your ear. Then his thrusts became erratic and desperate. Almost immediately your ears started to ring, and your body fell over the edge. As your climax rushed through you in waves, praises left your lips.

“I love you so much.” You moaned, and once those words left you, you said them again and again. In a stream of syllables that were barely even words anymore. Just a frantic declaration. Unable to hold them back. It felt like your heart was a fountain overflowing. Flooding between the two of you and leaving everything tender and vulnerable. Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes. Steve kissed you, swallowing your confession and slammed himself deep inside you as he tipped over the edge along with you.

The room was quiet for a few seconds before Steve gently pulled away from you. Then rolled over onto his back. Hand still locked in with yours, he didn’t let go. Heart racing along with your head, your breath came out in uneven pants. You couldn’t believe you said it. Hadn’t meant to. The thought had crossed your mind a couple times, but you never planned to say it first. Too afraid of scaring him away. Sometimes, you felt insecure with him. Like you weren’t good enough.

Captain America was larger than life. Even though you knew Steve wasn’t just the persona you learned about in the history books, it was hard not to feel lacking. In fact, Steve Rogers was better than his superhero identity. Insecurities were hard to ignore when you couldn’t escape how bigger-than-the-world he was to everyone. Social media made that hard.

Letting go of your hand, Steve turned on his side and got rid of the condom. Then he reached for you again. He tugged you to him and held you against his chest, quietly petting your hair. His lips brushed your forehead and he snorted a quiet laugh, “I love you too.” The words made your head spin, and you sat up to look down at him incredulously.

“What?” Hair fanned your face like a curtain and his teeth shone white in the dim light. Smiling. Thunder rolled overhead, muffled by the apartment walls. Eyebrows drawn together, you felt like you hadn’t heard him right. Couldn’t possibly have heard him right.

“I love you.” Steve stated matter-of-factly, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. He had a smug, lopsided grin on his face. Baby blues glinting with joy and affection as he playfully tugged on the strand of your hair. Releasing your hair, he caught the beaded chain of his necklace, and guided you forward so he could peck your lips.

You blushed, but beamed, ducking your head, “I hadn’t meant to say it like that. It just slipped out but… I’m glad.” You ran a finger down his chest to his stomach, feeling the thin sheen of drying sweat on his skin. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. He loved you too. Steve Rogers loved you. You were in love.

“Me too.” Steve kissed your cheek, forehead, and then your lips again. He lingered for second, sharing your air and stroking his thumb over your jaw. It made your heart swell because it felt like he couldn’t get enough of you. It was never enough. Every kiss just made you desperate for more. Moments like this made your insecurities quiet. Better than almost any verbal reassurance he gave you.

Curling back against his chest, you hugged his side, “You definitely made it up to me.” You snorted, tracing nonsensical designs against his chest. He hummed in question for a second, but then he understood and chuckled. You could hear his heartbeat beneath his words. A steady comfort.

“Oh ya? Damn, I was looking forward to having to try harder.” Steve teased, hand squeezing your hip. His breath fanned against the top of your head, voice muffled and languid. It felt like your muscles were cotton candy and a fuzzy content aura filled the space of your bedroom.

“Well if you want…” You trailed off suggestively, glancing up at him and he smirked back. Then you finished, “You can help me study for my other test in the morning.”

Steve frowned, obviously that wasn’t what he had in mind. The he smirked, “If you get an answer right, I could give you a reward.” He trailed his fingers lightly up your side and arm, making goosebumps follow behind his touch.

Eyebrows inching up to your hairline, you gathered up the end of your tangled blankets and draped it over your bodies. Cocooning with him and shook your head, sarcasm heavy in your voice, “Better be a good one.”

“Oh you’ll love it.” Steve nodded sagely, “I’ll make sure of that.” He adjusted the blankets for you, helping you get comfortable, “Nothing less than perfection for my best girl.”

“I’m your best girl?” You asked, smiling as you propped your chin on your hand over his heart.

“Definitely.” Steve promised, one arm tucked behind his head. It felt like your soul was singing in time with his. Perfectly harmonized. If you could allow yourself to believe in soulmates, you hoped Steve was yours. Because at this point, you were ruined for anyone else.


End file.
